


If We Could Start Again

by kiranightshade



Series: Just another Stiles got bit au [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 01, Frontotemporal Dementia, M/M, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Revenge, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: Stiles finds Peter. Scott doesn't exist. And Erica just wants her best friend to be safe.OrStiles visits Peter in hospital meets Stiles gets bitten instead of Scott with a detour to Polish heritage Stiles Stilinski. I do love my season one rewrites.





	If We Could Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> I almost made this for steer week but...nah. it's been about a year, gI've or take (maybe two. I don't remember) but it's FINISHED. Yes!

Mieczyslaw has just turned ten and his mamusia is dying. Nobody will tell him the truth, but he sees her getting weaker. He feels her blows getting weaker. 

Her voice is growing softer as she calls him a monster. He doesn’t know if he’s upset or not. 

No. No, he’s upset. She may not be his mamusia often anymore, but she still sounds like her. It still hurts when she doesn’t remember him. 

He knows it’s not her fault. He tries to remember that it isn’t his fault either. 

Yesterday was a good day. Mieczyslaw foolishly thought today could be a good day too. Perhaps that’s why it’s hitting harder than usual, her words cut deeper than he lets them. Perhaps that’s why she has him running blindly down the hall, unsuccessfully rubbing tears from his eyes, until he finds an empty room to hide in. 

His vision is still blurry when he closes the door and sits with his back to it. He rests his head on his knees and repeats to himself the mantra he’s taken up these past few months. 

It’s not his fault. Mamusia’s sick. He’s not a monster. 

He is not a monster. 

Eventually, he calms down enough to recognize that he isn’t as alone as he thought. There’s a man laying in the hospital bed and Mieczyslaw startles at the sight of him.

“I-I’m sorry mister. I didn’t know…” Mieczyslaw trails off when the man doesn’t react. 

Curiosity piqued, Mieczyslaw rises from his crouch and makes his way to the man. He almost flinches when he gets a good look at him. There are burn scars running down his right side, years old if he were to guess. 

He stops himself from touching them, but only just. His hand remains hovering over the man’s cheek as he speaks, “Are you okay mister?” Mieczyslaw chuckles, “Sorry. Dumb question. I’m full of those, or so I’m told.”

The man still doesn’t respond.

“Um. My name is Mieczyslaw. It’s okay if you can’t pronounce it. Nobody can except my mamusia. But she’s sick, so I don’t really get to hear it anymore,” Mieczyslaw coughs, forcing cheer he doesn’t feel back into his voice, “But that’s alright. I could make a codename. Like batman! And sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this.”

The answering silence is growing awkward and Mieczyslaw cannot stand awkward silences.

“Mister? Are you awake? I’ve read about people sleeping with their eyes open. Can you sleep with your eyes open? I suppose you can’t answer that if you’re asleep. Mister?” Mieczyslaw touches the man’s cheek tentatively. The moment he makes contact, the man jerks. 

Mieczyslaw jumps back, not realizing just how still the man had been before now. 

For a moment, before the frantic beeping of the man’s heart summons his nurse, Mieczyslaw swears he sees the man’s eyes shine.

 

*** 

 

If there is one thing Mieczyslaw is good at, it’s getting information out of people. All it takes is a lot of senseless babbling and strategically placed questions to get people to tell him things they otherwise wouldn’t think appropriate for a child such as him. 

He learns that the man is called Peter Hale and that his family all died in a fire three years ago. He learns that he is something called catatonic. He doesn’t know what that is but his tata mentions something about him being in a coma and he has a pretty good idea after that. 

Learning stuff is a lot easier now that his tata rarely has the mind to shoo him from his office computer. Getting the password is laughably easy and research is easier still when you know how to work the filtering system. 

The next time his mamusia is having a bad day, he sneaks off to Peter’s room again.

“I asked about you, you know. You’re Peter Hale and all your family died and you’re all alone and you shouldn’t be alive. Nobody would tell me, but I can read between the lines. You were a miracle. You had fifth degree burns all along your right side. You were coughing up black blood. Your alveoli was scarred beyond recognition. You weren’t expected to last the night, but here you are. Even your catatonia is purely psychological.” Mieczyslaw takes a breath. 

“I might have stolen your medical records. I barely got your name out of the doctors, okay? They really don’t like talking about you.” 

Mieczyslaw shifts his weight to his other foot, “I’m just gonna do my homework now. Companionable silence is a thing people like, so I’m gonna give you that. Of course, if anyone could talk someone out of a coma it would probably be me. That’s what my tata said anyway.”

Peter doesn’t answer, not that Mieczyslaw expects him too, but he still tightens his grip on his backpack nervously and shuffles over to the doctor’s stool. He sets his homework on the counter and gets to work.

 

*** 

 

Peter doesn’t wake up in the years that he spends at his bedside. 

The staff have to know he’s been sneaking into his room by now, especially after his mamusia died, but they haven’t mentioned it so neither will he.

Mieczyslaw starts calling himself Stiles and everyone is more than happy to oblige. He buries his anger down deep where it belongs.

Stiles started reading to Peter during their first summer together. Currently, they’re in the middle of the Grimms Fairy Tales. Stiles likes it and Peter hasn’t complained. 

Stiles doesn’t know why, but every now and again Peter seems more active than usual. Stiles can’t figure out any particular reason, but he feels more alive under his fingertips. One time, he could have sworn Peter turned into his hand when he was carding his fingers through his hair. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles is thirteen when he feels something curious and warm inside him. It’s not a feeling he can accurately put into words, but it feels good. It feels like someone important wrapping him up safe in their arms. It feels like being clung to for safety in turn.

He pokes at it as he goes through his day. He recognizes that important someone as Peter when he sees his finger twitch in time with his arrival. 

After that, he embraces it fully. He clings hard to that warm something and his dreams change. 

There is a wolf standing before him, in his dreams. They stand in the preserve and it’s never looked more beautiful than it does now. Stiles relaxes into the wolf’s inspection as he presses his nose into his side and neck and armpit. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that this wolf would never harm him. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. 

The wolf steps back and rises to his full height, a full two inches taller than Stiles. Stiles looks up into his bright eyes, so familiar but so foreign at the same time. They search deep into him, for what Stiles does not know, but the wolf must be satisfied by what he sees because his eyes flash a brilliant blue. Pleasure that is not his own pulses through him and he smiles up at the wolf. 

The wolf allows him to mount him and Stiles wakes with the phantom feeling of wind against his face and fur under in his hands. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles is fourteen when the call is made. 

These days, the woods are like a second home to him, and he doesn’t think twice about dragging his best friend with him for a little excitement. 

It’s not until later that he thinks it may not have been the greatest idea to bring his severely epileptic friend into the middle of the woods, but by then she is already caught by his tatus so he worries more about the fact that he’s all alone in the woods with a killer that may or may not be on the loose. Not to mention he’s already been on edge since his warm something went haywire before shutting down completely. 

Stiles doesn’t think he’s experienced anything quite so painful as being cut off from Peter. That doesn’t change after he’s nearly trampled by deer and his side is bleeding. 

He manages to patch himself up and be in bed by the time his tatus finds him. He stands in the doorway for a long time before leaving. 

Stiles doesn’t sleep very well that night.

 

*** 

 

Erica is not happy about his stunt the night before but she’s more worried about his bite.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. It just hurts like a bitch.”

“In that case,” Erica punches him, hard, “That was for dragging me out in the middle of the night to a crime scene. Do you have any idea how grounded I am?”

Rubbing at his shoulder, Stiles says, “Sorry. Didn’t really think that one through.”

“Damn right you didn’t. You had,” Erica glances to where his shirt is covering the bite, “have me worried sick.” 

“I won’t ever do it again?”

Erica glares at him, “Don’t lie. We both know you will.”

“I’ll be more careful next time?”

“That’s better.”

 

*** 

 

At first glance, Peter doesn’t look any different. 

Stiles, however, can feel how much more aware he is. There’s energy buzzing under his skin. Their bond is singing in his veins and Stiles is across the room before he ever thinks of taking a step. 

One touch is all it takes and suddenly their bond tightens and bursts open. It was tiny compared to what he’s feeling now. So much wrath and pain and desperation clinging to him. He gasps from the force of it. Peter’s clawed hand wraps tightly around his. He can feel his bones creaking under the weight. 

Gold eyes meet red and their bond solidifies. 

Peter is suddenly sitting up, pulling Stiles to his chest and sharp pain shoots into his neck. Broken memories, thoughts, and information flow into him. He burns with it, with Peter. 

Something tugs at him, willing him to relinquish his own memories and he lets it happen. He sees himself at ten and twelve and thirteen, always by his alpha’s side. Such a good beta he’ll make. Loyal. Clever. Strong. 

Stiles gasps as he’s released, falling back a few steps before finding his balance again. 

Peter catches his breath first, sitting half out of bed. 

“My dear Mieczyslaw. Oh how beautiful you’ll be.”

Stiles falls back into a chair, eyes wide as he processes everything he now knows. “H-hey. I’m a catch as is.”

He doesn’t bother commenting on hearing his legal name being pronounced perfectly after all these years. The man’s been in his head. He was bound to pick up a few things.

“A bit young for my tastes, but you do have a certain charm.”

“I’ve bonded myself to a pervert. Great. That’s just fantastic,” Stiles mutters, but his cheeks heat up nonetheless. 

“Hush now. You adore your little wolf.”

Stiles looks up from where he had covered his face with his hand. Peter is smiling at him, hopelessly endeared, if Stiles had to put a name to it. He’s got a hand outstretched for him. 

He takes it. 

Peter sits up fully, bringing Stiles’ knuckles to his lips in a chaste kiss. It is a kiss of respect and affection. Stiles doesn’t know how he knows that. 

Peter gave him information. Perhaps he gave him more than he meant to.

“You bit me.”

Peter’s smile dims, “Yes. I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely myself at the time. Your turning should have been far less violent. I apologize for that.”

“But not for turning me.”

“Oh I could never apologize for that. It would be dreadfully insincere.”

“And you are such a sincere person.”

Peter leads him closer, close enough to speak directly into his ear, “I am for you.”

Peter steps back before Stiles can form a response.

“I hate to cut things short, but my nurse will be coming by soon and it isn’t safe to be up and about just yet.”

“Right,” Stiles lowers his hand back to his side. “I’ll see you Friday then.”

Peter smiles, “I look forward to it.”

 

*** 

 

“Erica, you have got to come over.”

“Stiles, I can’t. I’m grounded remember?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’m on my way.”

“Wait! You can’t just drive here. Your jeep is way too noticeable.”

“I’ll take the shortcut then.”

“The what? You don’t mean—“

The video chat closes.

Stiles doesn’t need to hear Erica berate him for cutting through the preserve behind his house after what happened. He’s a werewolf now. One who’s pack is the monster in the woods. Once he explains that to her, it’ll be fine. 

It is not fine.

Erica is still pissed that he cut her off and ran off to the woods again. Stiles allows the light abuse against his shoulder for a few seconds until he pulls her off of him. 

She huffs out the rest of her frustration. 

“I thought you said you would be more careful.”

“I’m a creature of the night now. Tripping and falling is no longer going to be the end of me.”

“Because you’ve got wolf-like reflexes?”

“Honestly, it’s probably because I’ll heal. Lets be real.”

Erica tilts her head in acceptance.

“Wow Erica. I’m offended. You weren’t supposed to agree with me!” Stiles waves his arms for emphasis.

Erica rolls her eyes, but she laughs at him. Which is better than being mad at him. All is forgiven. Perfect.

“You’ll tell me what’s going on.”

“I know.”

“I don’t care what your…alpha… says.”

“I know.”

“No secrets.”

“Never.”

Erica nods, “Now get out of here before my parents double my grounding time.”

Stiles is grinning goofily when he salutes her, “Sir yes sir.” 

 

*** 

 

Stiles makes it halfway home before he is stopped dead in his tracks. 

Stiles doesn’t know what it is at first, but then a man is stepping out from a behind a tree and the sight of him makes Stiles snarl. 

The man raises his eyebrows and flashes his blue eyes back. 

If Stiles hackles weren’t already risen, they sure would be now. 

Stiles was about to run, all too familiar with Peter’s knowledge of unknown wolves walking on their territory. He can’t take on another wolf. He’s barely a cub as it is. 

But then he catches his scent and all the anger he’s kept locked away for years comes up unbidden. He must have blacked out because the next thing he knows, he’s pinning the bleeding man to the nearest tree and aggressively scenting him. He’s vibrating with the force of his growls and he can feel flesh tearing under his nails. 

That scent. It’s so familiar yet so foreign. He knows he’s never smelt it before but he remembers it. Or. No. Peter remembers it. 

So much new information buzzing through his head.

“All this time you were alive. All these years and you left him alone.” 

Stiles forces himself back before he does something particularly stupid like biting a chunk out of the man. 

The man who is scowling down at him. Stiles can actually smell the condescension, but he doesn’t have to be a werewolf to see his nostrils flare as he registers the scent he must be saturated in by now.

“Peter,” the man growls. He moves to stalk away but Stiles can see where his mind is headed and he’s fully aware when he grabs his throat and slams him back against the tree. 

He must not have been expecting it because he doesn’t react. It gives Stiles the time to bite out, “You’re not going to touch Peter.”

“He murdered his own niece.”

“He was feral and she abandoned him.”

His eyes widen. 

Stiles knows a lot of things now.

“Get out. You haven’t been welcome here for a long time.”

Stiles sneers once more at him, just to get his point across. He releases the man, not bothering to be affected by his sudden posturing. 

He turns his back on him. Flicking the blood off his nails, he walks away. 

He’s got better things to do than babysit disloyal relatives.

 

*** 

 

Peter is waiting for him in the preserve come Friday. 

Stiles hears the call and answers it eagerly. The shift comes over him like a wave. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to drop to all fours as his spine shifts ever so slightly. The woods become sharper, brighter as he runs deeper into them. 

Peter is smiling serenely up at the moon as he waits. 

He skids to a stop before his alpha. He looks up and lets his human inhibitions go with the setting sun. His blood thrums with the life of the forest, with Peter. 

His alpha howls and takes off. 

Stiles follows.

 

*** 

 

He wakes sticky and sore. 

The rest of the night comes back to him in flashes. Wind in his face. Blood in his mouth. Someone begging. Screaming.

He groans and sits up, leaning back on his elbows. Rubbing the crust out of his eye, he looks down to see blood coating his hands and clothes.

He looks up to see the carnage staining the seats and ceiling of the bus. A part of him, the part that still worries what his tatus would think, wants to be sick.

“You were so beautiful.”

Peter appears next to him, swiping a gentle thumb in an arch through the fuzz behind his ear. Stiles melts into it as Peter’s scent, so much more prominent than even the day before, merges with the blood in the air. 

“Oh how far the mighty has fallen.”

“Please. I’m sorry –“

The prey’s words choke by alpha’s hand. Stiles moves to kill, but then alpha is tutting and he halts. The war between his own instincts and the drive to obey his alpha’s orders is confusing but he remains still, if not entirely quiet, until alpha finishes his words and prey devolves to whimpers. 

Stiles does not care how pathetic prey has become. He will not refuse alpha’s gift.

Stiles gasps back into the present. Peter is taking him by the hand and helping him to his feet. The back door is gone, ripped off its hinges. They step out together.

“I killed him.”

“Yes.”

Stiles looks up to Peter’s face, to the scars. Peter attempts to hide his flinch as Stiles cups the injured cheek. Stiles’ eyes flash.

“You got names.”

Peter’s answering grin is sharp and awful, “Everything I need to hunt them all down.”

“No,” Stiles growls, “Everything we need.”

Peter laughs in delight, “Yes. We.”

 

*** 

 

Erica has been burning a hole in his head all day. She wants to know what happened the night before. She wants to know about the crime scene in the parking lot. 

Stiles manages to resist until Erica starts to look hurt and then they’re skipping seventh period. 

As soon as they’re alone, Erica turns on him, “What the hell happened last night.”

“Erica. I love you, but please hear me out.”

“There is a crime scene outside,” she hisses.

“I was just following Peter.”

“So he’s the one responsible…”

“No! No. Erica stop. You can’t—“

“I can’t what? Go to your father about the lunatic making his son murder?”

“No! Wait. Please. He isn’t making me do anything. I wanted to do this for him. I could’ve resisted.” 

That’s not entirely true. Stiles doesn’t know if he could have resisted his alpha’s orders. He just knows that he didn’t want to.

“I didn’t because that greedy bastard deserved what he got.”

“What could he have possibly done to deserve that?”

“That is not my story to tell, but I’ll take you to him.”

“What?” Erica exclaims as she’s dragged out by the hand, “You can’t take me to him. What if he kills me?”

“He won’t hurt you.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can and I do. He wouldn’t dare take you from me.”

He says it with such intensity that Erica can’t help but be stunned into compliance.

Nobody stops them on their way out.

 

*** 

 

The hospital is quiet and Peter is facing the window in his wheelchair. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Don’t be cute. It looks far too psychotic on you.”

Peter smiles and faces him. “Come to me?”

Stiles steps into his space and gives his hand to be kissed in welcome. Stiles tangles their fingers together before leaning down to press his cheek to Peter’s. 

“You clean up well,” Peter says into his ear, “but you should really remember to clean behind your ears.”

Peter scrapes a bit of dry blood from behind Stiles’ ear and holds it for Stiles to see. 

Stiles turns pink.

“Don’t worry. You did good. Why don’t you go clean yourself up and I’ll get acquainted with your little friend.”

Stiles looks back to where Erica is staring from the door. Her eyes are wide and her heart is racing. She looks ready to bolt. 

Stiles goes to her, taking her by the elbow and leading her to stand in front of him. 

“He’s not going to bite.”

“Well…”

“Peter.”

“I believe in informed consent just like everyone else.”

Something almost like regret passes through his eyes as he tears his gaze from him. Stiles takes pity.

“Mmhm. Be nice.” Stiles kisses Erica on the cheek before making his way to the bathroom. “Both of you.”

Stiles can still hear them of course, but he appreciates the illusion of privacy for Erica. Peter doesn’t touch her, for which Stiles is grateful. He brushes the marks on the nape of his neck. 

He’s not angry, exactly, that Peter forced his way into his head the way he did. He would have preferred the choice, but he knows the man was a bit beyond words at the time and that he would have preferred things differently as well. Stiles can forgive him for that. 

But god help him if he does it again.

Peter’s words wash over him as he scrubs his face and neck pink. He knows everything that’s being said, but it’s nice to hear it. It’s even nicer to hear Erica’s heartbeat calm and for her scent to change from the panic that threatened to take hold. 

When he returns, it’s to Erica sitting on Peter’s bed. His wheelchair is perched by her knee as he brings them to the present. Erica looks to him and he smiles at the wary acceptance in her eyes. 

“Much better,” Peter says, beckoning him back to his side. 

Stiles feels the new part of him flush from the praise. He doesn’t fight the warm feeling that comes with it. 

“All caught up?” 

“Yes. I believe we are.”

“I,” Erica stumbles over her words, Stiles sees the gears turning, trying to pick the right words, “I can’t.” she makes a frustrated noise, “Just don’t hurt Stiles. I don’t care about anything else. Just keep him safe.”

Stiles sees something like delight take over Peter when he agrees. 

Erica leaves soon after that, bracing for the wrath that is sure to greet her at home for skipping class. Stiles stays behind.

“You want her, don’t you?”

“She is such a delightful creature and she cares for you.”

“You know what I’ll do if you turn her like you did me.”

Peter grins up at him fondly, “I’m very aware. I meant what I said, you know. You were the exception. Not the rule.”

Stiles returns his smile, “I know.”

“There’s something else.” It isn’t a question.

Stiles looks into his curious eyes and shrugs, “I met your nephew.”

Peter’s eyes flash and Stiles is coming to recognize it as a sign of piqued interest.

“Oh?”

“He smelled you on me. He’s angry about Laura.”

“I’d imagine so. She was his alpha.”

“I think he cares a little more about the fact that she was his sister.”

“Either way, if he’s as impulsive as I remember then I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Where will you go?”

“I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

“Well, it can’t be my house. My dad will notice.”

A thoughtful expression takes over Peter, “This could be an opportunity of sorts.”

At Stiles’ questioning noise, Peter continues, “How attentive are dear Erica’s parents?”

Understanding dawns and Stiles’ eyes widen, “I could call her. Figure something out. I think their shed is still a makeshift guest house.”

Peter hums as Stiles pulls out his phone and arranges for Erica to stow Peter away.

It takes all of five minutes and then they simply wait for the night shift and smuggle Peter out of the hospital. This part, at least, had already been planned.

Stiles is actually angry at how easy it is. This is the place his alpha was abandoned? Under his real name, with security so pathetic it’s a wonder they even bother. 

He buries that down, but it’s harder than it used to be. 

He shakes it off. They have bigger things to worry about now.

 

*** 

 

Stiles doesn’t get to see Peter for a while after word gets out that he’s been kidnapped. He almost feels bad directing the investigation to his equally missing nurse, but then he thinks of Peter’s memories of her, of how she treated him when he was away.

He doesn’t feel so bad after that.

 

*** 

 

Stiles drops his backpack when he’s suddenly being pinned to his door by a very angry werewolf.

“Where is he?” Derek growls.

“Get out.”

Derek slams his hand against the door near his ear. “Where is he!”

Bright hot anger courses through Stiles and he knees Derek in the crotch before kicking him across the room, leaving him cradling his sore ribs.

“I said get out.”

Stiles flashes his eyes and claws very deliberately. Derek takes it as a lack of control. 

“Stiles,” he says, eyes full of pity, “you don’t understand. He’s a very bad man—“

Stiles kicks him again, this time in the face. Squatting down to eye level, he takes a chunk of his hair in hand, “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I may be a pup compared to you, but I am the one with a pack. I’m giving you the chance to leave with all your limbs intact. Take it.”

Derek snarls. Stiles rolls his eyes and stands up, putting his back to him as he picks up his backpack.

“I don’t need to be a werewolf to take care of you. I don’t even have to a particularly strong human. All I have to do is cry out to my father, the sheriff, about the strange man waiting for me in my room. If you don’t think I’ll have the entire department, no, the entire town out for your blood, then you are a fool. And I wouldn’t even need to lie to do it.” 

Stiles punctuates with a glare that doesn’t hide how he feels about Derek at all. Derek is starting to look like he may have made a mistake. 

Stiles takes the chance to say, “Get out,” one last time. 

He doesn’t look back to see if he leaves. The door slams shut behind him.

 

*** 

 

Peter’s scars are healed the next time he sees him.

“Why wait?” Stiles asks incredulously, pacing in Erica’s guest shed as Peter sits amused on his bed.

“Maybe we should wait for you to reclaim your identity? Did you think of that? What are people going to think when you return looking like the fire never even happened? What about other hunters? Word gets out about some miracle healing and you don’t think they’ll put the pieces together?”

Peter doesn’t look as amused anymore. Instead, he rises from his seat and stops Stiles’ pacing. 

“A DNA test and few lies here and there will be enough for most and my family has been a well-known pack long before the fire.”

“You can’t make rash decisions like this, Peter. People are more astute than you give them credit for.”

Peter laughs, “Only when it affects them, I assure you. People are self-centered by nature.”

Stiles grumbles unintelligently under his breath before finally huffing and saying, “Talk to me about these things. Don’t keep things like this from me, not when it affects all of us.”

Concern chases the laughter out of his eyes and tips the corners of his lips down.

“I’ll be sure to tell you next time.”

Stiles nods decisively. “Good,” he says, lips curving into a half-smile. 

 

*** 

 

Derek doesn’t show his face again and Stiles finds out why two weeks later. 

He’s unconscious when they find him, strung up and bleeding in his own basement. Peter helps him down, takes his pain away. Stiles pities him. 

Stiles takes the time to carry Kate’s unconscious form to the car. Peter places Derek across the back seat. He’s still unconscious when they park outside the Argent house. 

Peter watches in glee as the Argent house burns to the ground, Stiles pulls him away once the screams become too indecipherable and Petr starts looking a little sick. They don’t regret it.

Derek is tossed by the Leaving Beacon Hills sign. They don’t wait for him to wake up.

Stiles takes Peter out to Lookout Point where they can see all of Beacon Hills. Kate is gone, as are the rest of the Argents. There is nobody left to come for revenge. There is no more revenge to take.

They stand together until the sun begins to rise and then they stand together a little bit more.


End file.
